


Sometimes I Wonder

by Rising_Phoenix



Series: Royale Instinct [4]
Category: Basic Instinct 2, Casino Royale (2006)
Genre: Adam is and always will be a little shit, And Le Chiffre has no choice than love him, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Even when he's in pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: Adam got hurt during an investigation.
Relationships: Le Chiffre/Adam Towers
Series: Royale Instinct [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618213
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Sometimes I Wonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radiumkind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiumkind/gifts), [Realart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realart/gifts), [TuridTorkilsdottir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/gifts).



Every damn bone in his body hurt.

No.

Every damn CELL in his body hurt.

And after hours in bed, he did not know where to put his legs or arms, how to put the head on the pillow to ease the pain and not feel like he had been the punching bag of three thugs in a dark alley behind a shady night club.

Which was exactly what had happened.

He felt like a stupid beginner without an experience, running wide eyed into a trap. No backing. No back up plan. And nobody knowing where he went tonight.

If anyone would have told him that they did something as dumb as this, he would have laughed into their face and mocked them for the rest of their days, which would be probably very few considering how reckless this had been.

Moaning, he turned a little but then plopped back down and rolled the duvet even tighter around himself, then wriggling one leg free and sighing at the cool air that hit his foot and calf.

Stupid, so stupid.

The headache was killing him and he considered for the first time to actually call an ambulance and have him brought to a hospital to get himself checked for fractures, but then, he knew what fractures felt like, and this was different.

While taking care of himself in the bathroom, he had thrown up twice, and he still felt nauseous. He hated the sight of blood, hated pain, and even more, he hated feeling stupid.

He was for sure not a stupid man, far from it, so he could not get his head around having acted like this.

Another pain ridden moan escaped his mouth, and he had to chuckle a little at the sudden thought that his usual moans while laying in this bed were of a very different kind. He moved his thighs a little to get some friction to his cock and balls, but immediately regretted that movement that only caused some more pain, sharp and exactly where he had that deep cut at his hip that he had taped himself. God, he hoped he was not bleeding through the bandages onto the mattress, or Jean would have his head on a very expensive silver platter, as picky as he was about the expensive bed sheets he insisted to buy. But who was he to complain. He enjoyed the fine linen that his husband tended to purchase, ordered from a manufacture in God knows where, preferred the cool fabric directly on his skin. But today was different. After having shivered from the pain, he had put on a pajama, one of Jean's that was too large for his smaller frame, but it smelled of Jean, at least that was what Adam pretended even though the striped ensemble was freshly washed, and it gave him some sort of comfort. Maybe that was weird, but Adam could not care less.

All he cared for right now was that the pain stopped and that he would be back on his feet tomorrow.

Groaning under the fog of pain, he turned and reached out to the nightstand on the other side of the bed where he had placed the bottles with painkillers and a small bottle with water. He flicked the on switch on the lamp – and jumped with a scream.

Wide eyed and panting, he stared at the man who sat there in the darkness of the bedroom in the armchair, the long legs crossed, one arm angled up on the armrest and the indexfinger massaging his temple.

One brown and one blue eye were looking at him, stern and unmoving, void of any emotion.

No, that was not quite right.

He looked annoyed.

He looked not only angry, he looked pissed.

And a pissed Le Chiffre was never a good thing.

"What the fuck, Jean?" Adam hissed. "You scared the shit out of me. How long have you been sitting there in the dark, you creepy shit?"

Jean did not reply.

Instead, he continued to massage his temple, one corner of his mouth twitching and his eyes still staring at Adam.

"Jean?" Adam asked when he saw that his husband did not make a single move, getting worried and insecure about what was going on in the Albanian's head, not that he ever knew what that was. Even after years together, the man he loved was still a mystery to him.

For agonizingly long seconds, Jean continued to stare, then he took a deep breath while his jaw moved in a way that Adam had only seen a few times before – only when Jean was out to get someone's hide.

"Who did that?"

Adam sighed and now moved finally, took two pills from the bottle and swallowed them dry, now avoiding to look at the other man.

"I asked you a question," Jean said, the voice not leaving a doubt that he demanded an answer. "Who did that to you?"

Adam looked up through his long lashes, aware that his face was probably by now shining in all the color of the rainbow, and tried to smirk, but even that hurt.

"Why are you home already?" He asked instead of replying. "I thought you'd not be home before Thursday."

Jean now leaned forward, the expression in his eyes nothing but sheer rage.

"I asked you who did that, Adam," he whispered, but even in the silence of his voice Adam could hear the insistence and subtle power.

"Someone, it doesn't matter. Tell me why you're home," Adam said, fidgeting with the sleeve of the pajama top that was striped in greens and black.

Jean sighed.

"Kratt gave me a call," came the short reply.

"Snitch," Adam gave back, trying to sound playful, but the pain was too much.

"I pay him."

"That doesn't give him the right to tattle private things to you the moment he..."

"Private things?" Jean interrupted him. "Really?"

One brow of the criminal mastermind went up.

"It's hardly a private thing when my husband looks like he had a physical fight with a bulldozer."

"It is private," Adam said, almost pouting.

"Yes, I agree. It is," Jean said, and now Adam's brows went up in surprise. "It is private to you and me."

Adam rolled his eyes and hissed when another sharp wave of pain shot through his head.

"You're in pain."

Adam looked at his husband, but could not find the strength or energy to come up with a smart comeback.

"Wow, how observant of you."

Jean got up, and now Adam noticed that he was wearing one of his usual black suits and shirt, but had taken off jacket and tie and had opened the top two buttons of the shirt, giving view to his mouthwatering collarbones and skin, with a glimpse of his chesthair. Adam could not help but lick his lips, and found himself annoyed that even that hurt.

With one step, Jean was closer to the bed and sat down on the edge a little sideways so that he could face Adam, who turned his head away, not wanting to look at his husband, see his pitying eyes or face his anger with him.

But instead of chastising him or blaming him, Jean took Adam's hand and held it in his, examining the bandages that showed traces of the blood that seeped through the cotton. His thumb stroked gently over the edge of the bandage, hardly touching his skin, just ghosting over the physical contact both men craved after having been apart for a couple of weeks.

"I missed you," Jean said. "I did not expect to see you like this when I return."

Adam smiled helplessly and looked up into Jean's mismatched eyes-

"Believe me," he started to say. "I did not plan this."

Jean chuckled and raised Adam's hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to an area of Adam's skin that was not bandaged or bruised.

"Tell me what happened," he asked, but now without urgency in his voice.

Adam sighed.

"I...remember that I told you about that heiress?"

"The one with the connections to certain circles, yes, I remember," Jean said, his eyes again stern. "I also remember that I warned you to not get involved in that."

The two men looked into each other's eyes for a moment, Jean obviously waiting for an explanation, and after a few seconds, Adam broke the eye contact.

"Anyways," he said, the voice still heavy with pain. "I was out with Quentin, and I saw her in the club we were at, and well, I thought it was a good idea to see what she was doing there, in a gay club, so...what?"

He noticed how Jean was looking at him without blinking.

"You were in a gay club. With Quentin."

"That is what you got from what I just told you?" Adam said, not able to hide his amusement. "He's my friend. Our friend. And James is out of town as well, and we both were bored. Going to a gay club does not equal hooking up. Not like I had a Grindr date or whatever."

Jean raised again one brow.

"Want me to tell you the rest?"

"Please. Continue."

"Anyhoo, so I may have flirted a little with her, and then she left, and I followed, and well...there were those guys...really tall and burly guys...and they somehow had brass knuckles? Did I mention that they were like twice my size, and I'm pretty small if you have probably noticed by now, so...they told me to stay away from Miss Alana, and well..."

He made a grand gesture to himself, causing Jean to sigh again.

"Alana Munro has connections to people I would not get involved with, Adam. When I warn you of something, you should take it seriously."

"It's not like I followed her."

"It's also not like you avoided it."

Adam drew his brows together.

"Are you blaming me for getting beaten up, Jean?"

"I'm blaming you for being an adrenaline junkie and reckless," Jean said, worry in his voice. "When Kratt gave me the call that you came home heavily injured..."

"Hardly heavily."

"Can I finish? Thank you. When Kratt gave me the call, I feared the worst. I'm running in circles that are a danger to you. To your health and to your life. I am a risk to you already, I need to be certain that you are not risking anything in addition."

Adam laced his fingers with Jean's and looked at his husband, the smile again helpless and not that of the cocky journalist, but that of an insecure young man who was sometimes not as secure about himself as he pretended to be.

"I know," Adam said. "I can't promise you that I will stay home and write for a baking column or give sex advice in a paper, and I know you would appreciate that, but that's just not me. You married me despite knowing what I do, hell, that's how we met, and I will not change, just like I don't want you to ever change for me. I love you exactly the way you are."

Jean leaned closer to him and kissed the not bloody corner of Adam's lips, touching the tip of his nose with his own. Intimate. Gentle. Not at all as someone would assume from the criminal who had the reputation of not taking prisoners and whose enemies had the tendency to mysteriously vanish. Adam though, he knew Jean Duran not only in that role he played to perfection, he also knew the man who was raised in an orphanage and desired respect and love, even if he never admitted it before he met the English journalist who took first his cock and then his heart in a whirlwind.

"Sometimes I wonder," Jean said, nuzzling his nose into Adam's soft curls. "Why I bother with you."

Adam smiled.

He could think of one thousand snarky and sassy things to give back, but instead, he said the only thing that mattered: "Because I love you."


End file.
